


Monmouth Thieves

by dawnIsGone



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Con Artists, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Organized Crime, grifter!au, trc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6413179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnIsGone/pseuds/dawnIsGone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grifter!AU TRC based off the TV series Leverage, starring the Gangsey as your favorite con artists</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: the Parish Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponding Leverage episode: the Miracle Job

**_*Monmouth, Monday, 1:36 P.M.*_ **

"Gansey, they're gonna tear St. Agnes down." Adam Parrish held his mug so tight his knuckles turned white. "St. Agnes is practically a relic, they can't just tear it down! Plus, I live there. What do I do when it's gone?"

Richard Gansey adjusted his wire frame glasses and ran his fingernail along a crack on his dining table. "You can come here, to Monmouth. Live with me , Ronan, Noah."

Adam glared. "You know how I feel about that."

Gansey shrugged. "I really can't help you. This company acquired the land, they do what they want with it, totally legal, de jure."

Adam scowled, but said no more, tea untouched.

Ronan Lynch emerged from his room down the hall, stretching. "Well, you're Dick Campbell Gansey, surely you can do something." He took a sip from Adam's mug—earning protest from Adam—and spat the tea out in the sink. "Tastes like dirt."

Gansey eyed Ronan.

"Gansey."

Gansey turned back to face Adam.

"Just this once, I'm asking for—"

Ronan snorted and slid into the seat next to Adam. "Look, I've been going to St. Agnes since I could babble, I want it torn down about as much as Parrish here, which means you're outvoted." Ronan pointed a triumphant finger at Gansey.

Gansey swatted Ronan's hand away. "The priest is going to talk with local authorities about keeping the church intact. It'll be fine."

"But there's no way a small church can win a plea against a big-ass development company." Ronan leaned back in his chair, almost daring Gansey to argue.

Of course he did. "Guys, I'm a historian on Welsh artifacts, not a miracle worker." Gansey frowned.

"The priest isn't going to plea for the church," said a tender voice from behind Gansey.

Gansey jumped. "Dammit, Noah."

Noah smiled his rosy-lipped smile.

"Why not?" Adam asked.

Now Noah eyed Ronan. "He was beaten up on his way to city hall."

A shadow passed over Ronan's face, he looked five years too old, and he glanced sideways at Gansey, eyes narrowing to slits. "We're going to get this bastard, we're getting St. Agnes back." He stood up as Gansey started to protest. "It's not up for negotiation," Ronan snapped, and stormed to his bedroom, slamming the door.

Gansey turned toward Noah, then Adam, appearing awfully offended.

Noah shrugged. "A priest got beaten up, and Ronan's a man of faith. If you don't do something about it, he will."

"It's moments like this that I remember you're actually the oldest of us," Gansey said.

Noah sneered, but coming from him, it was about as menacing as a child's pout.

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Gansey spread his hands. "Like I said, I'm a _historian_."

"Yeah," Noah agreed, "but you're _Gansey_." With that, he drifted back to his room.

Adam tipped his head at Gansey's bewildered expression and left the apartment.

* * *

_***Monmouth, Tuesday, 11:02 A.M.*** _

"After a little sleuthing of my own—"

Ronan cut Gansey off sharply. "Who the fuck even says 'sleuthing'?"

Gansey frowned. "I do. Anyway, I found out the head of the development company bribed the local authorities into denying any church pleas."

Adam made a sour face.

"Then why'd he have someone beat up the priest if he's already secured the authorities?" Noah asked.

"We don't know for sure if he ordered the assault or not. Assuming he did, it's likely extra measures to make sure he gets the church."

Adam shifted in his seat. "So the CEO bribed, which is illegal. And you—" He pointed at Gansey, "—being an honest man..."

Gansey sighed. "Cannot simply stand idly by. Yes, my friends, we are going to get St. Agnes back."

Noah grinned knowingly. Ronan pumped his fist, saying, "That's more like it!" Adam gave Gansey a wan smile.

Gansey smiled back and mouthed, " _For you._ "

Adam bit back a retort, like " _I don't need your pity_ ". He had asked Gansey for this favor, he'd live with the consequences.

Gansey held up his hands. "We'll need to be able to communicate with each other, discreetly. Bluetooth earpieces, or—"

"Way ahead of you." Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out four tiny objects. Irregularly shaped, nude-colored things. "Earbuds," Adam explained, putting one in his right ear. "Very sensitive. Lynch, I heard that."

Ronan looked up, having just inserted the bud. "I _whispered_ 'fucking hell'."

"Yeah, and I can hear it." Adam tapped his earbud.

Gansey weighed the piece before trying it on. "You came prepared."

Noah's grin grew bigger.

Gansey's eyes widened ever so slightly. "You knew I wouldn't turn down your request. How long have you been working on these?"

Adam shrugged. "You think all I can do is power-study through life? I'm practically a certified technician."

"Don't get too cocky there, Parrish," Ronan snarled. "Let's just go get my church back."

"And how?" Noah leaned on his elbows, eyebrows raised.

* * *

_***Monmouth, Saturday, 11:42 P.M.*** _

"What's that thing you did with the Mary statue?" Gansey asked Adam, sitting down on one of the cracked leather couches.

"Made a copy, made it lighter, and added some pores around the eyes." Adam paused to fill his glass with water. "Some water into the pores, weakly sealed." Adam took a sip. "The vibrations from playing the organ should be enough to pop the seal. That water comes out—"

"And it looks like Mary is crying," Gansey finished. "They'll think twice about closing the church."

"Yeah," Adam seated himself just as Ronan and Noah came through the front door.

"...going around, faking miracles," Ronan was saying. Noah simply waved him off.

"What's up?" Gansey asked.

Noah flashed a winning grin and two thumbs-ups. "We swapped the Mary statue with Adam's. Someone should notice our 'miracle' by tomorrow after assembly." He glanced back at Ronan, who gnawed at his leather wristbands. "Also, Ronan says we're all going to Hell for faking miracles."

"And breaking the law," Ronan added.

"Oh, like you're one to talk," Noah snapped, in a very Noah-esque way—which is to say, without bite.

Ronan growled.

* * *

**_*Monmouth, Sunday, 12:01 P.M.*_ **

"How was church, Ronan?" Noah asked cheerfully the next morning.

Ronan exhaled loudly. "Bat shit crazy. Everyone is talking about the crying statue." He paused. "The false one. We're not blown yet."

"Good." Gansey was sitting at the dining table. "So for the next part of this operation..." Gansey's eyes glinted as he pointed one index finger at Ronan. "I hope you know a way into St. Agnes at night."

Ronan rolled his eyes. "Duh, Adam."

Gansey's enthusiasm ebbed a bit. "Oh, right. And Noah," Gansey pointed his other index finger at Noah, "why don't you steal us the dev company's company truck?"

An eerie smile crept its way across Noah's pale face. "With pleasure."

* * *

_***St. Agnes Church, Monday, 9:15 A.M.*** _

"Where—where's the statue?" The priest was beyond frantic, gesturing at the empty space that once held the Mary statue.

Ronan, camouflaged in the crowd, held his bruised knuckles to his mouth. "Someone outside calls for you, Father."

The priest looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. "Oh...oh, alright."

Ronan tailed the priest out to the church and onto the street, which was as crowded as the inside.

People swarmed the priest.

"Is it true that Mary is crying?"

"Father, do you have any idea who stole Mary's statue?"

The old man looked ready to break down, then he spotted the truck of the development company, parked a little ways away, and his lined face hardened. The priest reached the truck just as the two loading doors banged open. The priest stopped in his tracks. The crowd drew in a collective breath, and with it sucked away all chatter.

A man in a business suit clambered out of the truck. He wore an ID card clipped to his front pocket, bearing the logo of the development company. Behind him in the truck rested two statues, a tear-stained Mary, and one not.

"Where am—" He barely spoke before the crowd exploded.

"They faked a miracle!"

"Sacrilege!"

"Take him down!"

Ronan smirked and darted off to where Gansey, Noah, and Adam waited, a well way away from the throng.

• • • • •

**_*Development Company, the night before, 11:58 P.M.*_ **

"Remind me again why we're here?" Ronan stood next to Noah, who was ghastly white under moonlight, in the development company's above-ground parking lot.

"So I can steal a truck," Noah replied nonchalantly as if he was simply grocery shopping. He looked around, watery eyes analytical. "You'd think a big-shot business like this could afford to put up wire fences around here or something."

"A big-shot business like this can replace a truck easy, if they've got anything, it's a crap ton of money." Ronan sauntered over to a truck. "So, how are we gonna jack this baby?"

Noah flexed his long, tapered fingers. "Don't forget, Ronan, I grew up boosting cars." Noah rubbed his cheek, where a permanent purple smudge rested.

Within a handful of minutes, Noah had unlocked and hotwired the vehicle, and they were on their way to St. Agnes.

"Gansey, we got the truck," Ronan said.

Over the earbud, Gansey could be heard. "Good, Adam, you ready?"

The bud buzzed. "Yeah. Noah, you go in through the front, the church doors aren't locked, get the copy of the statue. Ronan, you help me bring the real thing down from my room to the truck."

Ronan tilted his head back, never having heard Adam sound so authoritative.

"Roger that." Noah made a turn and pulled up to St. Agnes's front doors. "Let's go." Noah slipped out of the truck, slithered through a crack between the church's doors, and disappeared.

Ronan hopped off and made his way to Adam's attic suite.

"Parrish." Ronan rapped his knuckles on the old, ajar, wooden door and stepped inside. "Adam?"

The Mary statue stood at the foot of Adam's mattress. Adam, tense, stood in the middle of the room before a man, there was a small cut on his eyebrow.

Ronan didn't even hesitate to lunge at the man who towered over Adam. In one swift motion, Ronan swept the man's legs out from under him, grabbed his head, and banged it against the floor. He was out cold in seconds.

"Impeccable timing." Adam wiped the blood oozing from his cut.

Ronan grunted in response and hefted the statue. "Get the guy," he told Adam. "I'll handle the Saint Mary here." Adam started dragging the man by the arms.

"What man?" It was Gansey over the com. "What's wrong?"

"Company employee," Ronan groaned under the statue, checking out the ID on the man's chest. "Must've been keeping their eyes out since the crying Mary."

"We're fine, Gansey," Adam assured.

Back at the truck, Noah was waiting, he'd already placed the fake into the back. Ronan plopped his statue next to the replica and stretched his arms.

"Who's that?" Noah watched as Adam unceremoniously dumped the man beside the two Marys. "What happened?"

"I happened," Ronan responded tersely.

"Is he gonna stay like that till morning?"

Ronan scoffed, "If I knock someone out, they tend to stay knocked out." He yawned. "Let's go, Noah. 'Morrow, Parrish."

• • • • •

_***St. Agnes Church, Monday, 9:17 A.M.*** _

Gansey smiled, the kind that leaked mischief and pleasure. "Looks like our job is done. No one will let this company take the church after such a blasphemous incident."

"And I leaked evidence of bribes to the police from the city hall database." Adam looked very proud of himself. He surveyed the crew. "So...I suppose we're done breaking the law?" And Ronan thought he heard just the smallest sliver of wistfulness.

Gansey hummed and adjusted his glasses. "I have to admit I felt quite exhilarated about this...heist." he glanced at each of his friends in turn.

Ronan nodded.

Noah studied his nails.

Adam drummed his fingers on his arm.

Silence settled until Gansey spoke up once more. "One more job?" he suggested.

They all broke into grins. "One more job."


	2. The House Call Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponding Leverage episode: the Bank Shot Job

**_*Monmouth, Saturday, 9:58 A.M.*_ **

Adam stretched, sprawled across Gansey's cracked couch. He didn't usually take up an entire couch for himself, but he was feeling good today: He worked hard between his two jobs, spent and saved accordingly, and he was finally, finally—

"What are you so happy about?"

Adam didn't realize he was smiling as he tilted his head.

Ronan stood behind the couch, wearing nothing but boxers and a black, half-zipped hoodie. Gansey had just sat down at the dining table. Though he probably hadn't slept half the night, he sported a very convincing just-rolled-outta-bed look, complete with a bed head, glasses, and a cup of morning tea.

"Morning, Adam," Gansey said absentmindedly.

Adam looked back to Ronan, half a smile still lingering. "I'm moving out." Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Of St. Agnes." Ronan raised his other eyebrow. "I'm getting my own place."

"Nice," Ronan replied.

There came a patter of light, rapid footsteps down the hallway, and Noah burst into the living room. "What's that? I heard someone's getting their own place?" Noah looked around.

Gansey, though silent, wore a face that appeared very giddy and proud. He pointed at Adam.

"Oh, congrats." Noah sat down on Adam's right. "I'm glad." He set his hand tenderly on Adam's head. "And oddly proud." Noah was the only one who could touch Adam's head without fear of losing his hand. "I'm very proud of you." Noah's smile was gentle as ever, and he seemed to emit a happy glow.

"Thanks, Noah." Adam sat up. "Gansey, why the long face?"

Gansey popped a mint leaf into his mouth. "Well, since you're getting a house, let's talk about someone losing theirs, shall we?" He stood up and moved to the living room. The sky had lightened and now the room was awash in a pale blue of early morning light. Gansey sat.

"Stellar topic, Captain Cheerful," Noah muttered.

Gansey ignored the comment. "Yesterday I encountered a friend of a friend. His name was, ah, Jesse Dittley, I'm pretty sure. He got into a bit of a skirmish with a local judge in his town. From what my friend told me, since Dittley works under the judge, he got his hands on some files indicating the judge was taking bribes from various defendants. It's not a big town, so news doesn't really travel out of it."

Ronan leaned against the couch. "Your point?"

"Dittley threatened to expose the judge, but was caught on a pot charge before he ever did, now he's being evicted, and he has a bad name. However, my friend, as character witness, knows for a fact that Dittley doesn't, and never did do drugs or get involved with drug dealers."

"So you think this judge framed Dittley, and you want us to help you clear a name," Ronan concluded.

"Yes, that sums it up."

"I'm down." Noah's hand shot straight up. "Nothing good on TV these days anyway."

Ronan nodded.

Adam hesitated awhile. "I do have this coming week off."

"Splendid!" Gansey clapped his hand together, almost spilling his tea. He stood up, looking plenty more rejuvenated, and brushed his hair away from his face. "Let's go find Sargent," he said before hurrying to his room.

Adam grimaced as he got to his feet, heading for the stairs.

"What?" Ronan asked.

Noah made a small, confused noise and bounded after Adam.

Ronan gawked in the direction of Gansey's room. "Why the hell do we need a sergeant?"

* * *

_***300 Fox Way, Saturday, 12:22 P.M.*** _

It turns out, Ronan realized, that they were not in need of a low-ranking military officer; they were, instead, going to meet a girl with a funny name, who wore funny clothes, and lived with other funny people.

300 Fox Way was an overgrown, quaint-looking wooden house that reminded Ronan of those clown cars that held more people than it should've been able to. Small children ran about in the front yard, picking handfuls of herbs and rushing them into the house. Many of them had soapy hands. There was a platinum-haired woman who sat relaxed in a giant tree. She looked like liquid moonlight through leaves, in broad daylight. Beneath the tree, there stood a girl with dark hair, three torn neon tank tops, and denim shorts with white tights. She was watering plants. Her hair was held back by dozens of colorful clips.

Ronan thought he was looking at a third-grader's cut-&-paste project.

Gansey hopped out of the Camaro's driver side and made a beeline for the tank top girl. "Jane!" he called, arms spread. If he expected a hug, he didn't get one.

"Hi, Gansey," she said, wiping her richly tan hands on her shorts, then she caught sight of Adam, Ronan, and Noah emerging from the car. Adam stiffened a little, then smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but the three of them were intercepted by a pale, bushy blondness before Adam had a chance.

The woman in the tree was no longer in the tree. She stood before Adam, Ronan, and Noah. "Hello, Adam, remember me?" She wore a patchy dress of deep blue and royal purple, paired with black and white crochet leggings. Her dark eyes bore into the three of them.

Noah glanced at Adam, mouthing, _"You know her?"_

"Persephone." The corners of Adam's eyes crinkled as his smile softened. "Long time."

"Very," Persephone said. She tugged on Adam's sleeve. "Come inside. I'll make you something to drink." Adam tried to protest. "Oh, bring your friends." She padded off into the house after a group of kids, her thigh-length hair billowing like a cloud.

Ronan glanced skeptically at Persephone and her hair.

"Let's go." Adam beckoned.

Ronan followed along beside Noah.

Persephone led them to what Ronan assumed was the kitchen, where she picked out mismatched cups and bottles of liquid and herbs.

Adam seated himself at the table, Noah and Ronan on either side of him. Awkward silence elapsed, broken only occasionally by the clinking of glass cups.

Finally, Persephone sat down across from them, four glasses she set before them. "I hope you don't mind the vodka," she said in her whisper voice, "my hand slipped."

Noah made a face.

"I like my alcohol," Ronan murmured and knocked back a glass. He nearly spat. It tasted like minty gym socks and liquor pureed with licorice. He forced it down.

Persephone smiled at him.

"So, ah, Persephone." Adam ran his fingers along the rim of his glass. "This is Ronan—" Adam gestured "—and this is Noah." He paused to politely take a tiny sip of his drink. "Uh, how goes your college thesis paper?"

Persephone bobbed her head from side to side. "Could be better. Snacks, music, you know."

Adam nodded slowly, holding his glass close to his lips but not drinking anything. He opened his mouth.

"Blue's been great," Persephone said, as if reading Adam's mind. "She spent her college years overseas, traveling. Some of her best years." She noticed the mildly hurt expression on Adam's face as Ronan did. She reached across the table to squeeze Adam's hand. "Oh, Adam, it's nothing about you. I just meant she was finally following her dream of being...free, I suppose." She gave Adam's hand a soft pat before finishing her drink.

Adam let out a small, irresistible chuckle. "I know, I understand. She must have been so elated." His face was dreamy. "I'm very happy for her."

Noah cleared his throat. "You two, um, know each other?"

Persephone nodded. "Oh, yes. I was Adam's...wingman of sorts when he used to date Blue."

Ronan and Noah exchanged amused glances.

Adam flushed, making the splash of freckles across his face very, very prominent. "High school." He held the glass up to his face.

"That's so cute," Noah said, a grin in his voice.

"So what's new with you?" Persephone asked.

"He's getting his own place!" Noah exclaimed.

"Oh, god, that's wonderful!" A voice behind them.

Everyone turned.

The girl in three tank tops stood at Gansey's shoulder. She was beaming at Adam, as warmly as the afternoon sun. And by the way Adam looked at her, Ronan guessed she may as well have been. She sat next to Persephone.

"Thanks, Blue."

Gansey stepped forward. "You two know each other?"

Blue glanced up to him. "Yes, high school."

Ronan knew Gansey could sense something went unsaid. He looked to Noah.

 _"Dated,"_  Noah tattled soundlessly.

Gansey's mouth formed a perfect "O", but he regained his composure quickly enough. "Jane, Noah and Ronan. Noah and Ronan, Jane," Gansey introduced them.

"Blue Sargent," Jane said.

Ronan raised his eyebrow.

"Why Jane?" Noah asked. "Blue's just fine."

Gansey shrugged. "We had a...run in a couple years ago where we had to work together. Alias Jane. I guess it stuck."

"So Gansey's telling me you guys agreed to help my old friend, Jesse Dittley." Blue leaned forward on her elbows. "And you need me because...?"

"The hell if we know what's always goin' on in that brain of his." Ronan reached up and tapped his knuckles against Gansey's temple, making Gansey frown.

"Stop that." Gansey pushed Ronan's hand away. "Jane, we need you because you know Dittley, and you're a good grifter." He took a breather. "And it'd be nice to work together again."

Blue unclipped and clipped a red pin in her hair over and over again, in thought. Then she grabbed a sweater hanging off the back of her chair and gave Persephone a quick hug. "When Mom comes back, tell her I'm out with friends."

"Mm hm. Bye bye."

Adam, Ronan, and Noah stood up, bid Persephone goodbye (Drinks barely touched. Noah's not at all), and headed out the door.

Ronan would have ridden shotgun, but Blue beat him to it. He looked at Gansey. "I thought I—" Gansey cut him off.

"Ladies' privilege."

Ronan growled and slid into the backseat, wedged tightly between the door and Adam, with Adam's bony knee digging into Ronan's thigh.

"Adam, find us some dirt on the judge when we get back to Monmouth," Gansey said.

* * *

_***Monmouth, Saturday, 1:33 P.M.*** _

Everyone seated themselves around Gansey's wooden dining table.

"Gansey, why is there a fridge in your bathroom?" Blue asked.

Gansey gestured vaguely. "Eh...Ronan."

"Hey," Ronan objected. "It was your idea, and there isn't any shit in that thing anyway."

"Okay, whatever. Adam, what have your got for us?"

Adam sat a little straighter in his chair. "Judge Ernest Truman—"

Blue snorted.

Adam cracked the tiniest of smiles. "Yeah. Anyway, he doesn't have his whole town bought over or anything, but he does pay off some people every once in a while, as well as get paid off himself. He accepts bribes from local criminals, drug dealers, robbers. A couple months ago, he let off a guy who shot up a grocery store. Killed two, injured three, got off on a year in jail and some damage payments, and community service." Adam shook his head in disgust.

Gansey tapped his chin. "Do you know where he keeps his dirty money?"

"Yep. In the bank. Silences all the tellers, money or otherwise."

"Okay." Gansey stood up and began pacing the length of the table. "We'll get the dirty money. We'll distribute it to the families of the victims. We'll pose as money launderers, get him to hand over the money, and we bolt with it."

"Sounds good," said Blue. "What are we waiting for?"

Gansey grinned. "Pack you bags. We're going on a road trip. We'll take two cars. I'm gonna rent one, Ronan, get your car."

"Why mine?"

"Go pack, Lynch."

"'Go pack, Lynch'." Ronan went to pack, then tossed his duffel into his trunk once done. He pushed himself onto the roof of his car and waited for Gansey to rent a car and Adam to rush to St. Agnes to pack his things.

Gansey returned from the rental as Blue and Adam were chatting in front of the house, Noah trailing behind them.

"Why couldn't you've taken your Camaro?" Ronan tossed his question at the car, a dark grey Lexus ES 350.

"Too conspicuous," Gansey replied as he got out of the car. "Alright, who wants to come with me? And who wants to go with Ronan?"

Blue put her hand on the passenger door on the rental car. "I'll go with Gansey." Then she turned to him. "You have to take me home so I can pack." Gansey nodded.

Adam hefted his baggage, eyes drifting between Blue and Gansey and Ronan. Finally, he said, "Shotgun." And shoved his things into Ronan's trunk.

Noah twisted his backpack strap. "I'll go with Gansey, then."

"'Then'?" Gansey noted.

Noah made himself comfortable in the rental car's backseat.

Gansey looked at Noah funny, but shrugged it off. "Let's hit the road, shall we?" He and Blue got in the car, and it began to pull out into the street. Gansey stuck his head out the window. "We should get there by eight," he called to Ronan.

Ronan jerked his chin at the passenger side door, signaling at Adam, before sliding in himself. "Can't stand a six-hour drive," he muttered, then gunned the engine, following Gansey back to Fox Way.

It didn't take the Sargent girl long to pack, and soon they were all well on their way to a little town in the middle of nowhere.

The great thing about being in the middle of nowhere was the peace and quiet; the awful thing about being in the middle of nowhere was peace and quiet. And the mosquitoes. Also the heat was bad, but mostly the peace and quiet.

Ronan cruised down a dirt road, a little ways behind Gansey. Ronan had his windows rolled down, combatting the heat of the country. Outside, rolling hills of lush green dotted with herds of horses and grazing cows blurred by. Muffled music pounded from Gansey's beat up stereo ahead.

And Ronan drove in utterly awkward silence with Adam Parrish at his side.

They hadn't spoken once in their four hours in the car, and why Adam chose to ride with Ronan was beyond him. Ronan refused to read into it any more than he had to.

Ronan's phone rang. He ignored it.

"It's Gansey," said Adam.

"Answer it," Ronan replied.

Adam put it on speaker.

 _"Gansey says we should find a place for dinner."_ It was Noah.

Ronan's stomach growled. "Good idea."

 _"Blue says there's a pit stop with McDonald's up ahead, we'll pull off there."_ Noah hung up, and the silence returned.

* * *

_***McDonald's, Saturday, 5:57 P.M.*** _

Ronan was glad when the sky began to darken, and the sun finally fucked off, and they pulled into the sparsely populated lot of a McDonald's. Ronan was sweaty and his pulse was pounding, it was nice to have some night breeze and fresh air. Gansey ordered for everyone and they settled at a table in the corner, next to a giant window.

"The stars out here are stunning," Blue said, gazing up at the sky. "Just wait till the sun sets."

It didn't take long for the sun to set. By the time they got their meals, the sun had sunken to the horizon, painting the sky in shades more brilliant than Gansey's polo shirts. By the time they finished, the sun had gone and what was left of the orange sky had melded with deep, midnight blue.

"The stars are out," Blue whispered. "Let's go outside. I want to see them."

Outside, it was dry and warm, and Blue climbed to sit atop Gansey's car. Ronan looked up. He was taken aback, to say the least. Hundreds, thousands, millions of little blinking lights blazing against the inky sky. He'd seen stars in the suburbs, a constellation or two here and there, lone Sirius shining bright, but never like this, never in an abundance like this. Never.

"They're like your freckles, Adam." Noah had wedged himself between Adam and Ronan.

Adam pulled a face, a cross between a grin and a grimace. "You think?"

"Mm hm." Noah rested one arm on Adam's shoulder. "You're like a galaxy, Adam." He waved one hand in front of Adam's face, tapping his nose, then raised his hand to the heavens. "Like that. You have stars in your eyes."

Adam shook his head.

Noah elbowed Ronan. "Right, Ronan?"

Ronan glanced over, at Noah's expectant eyes, at Adam gazing at the stars, and shrugged.

Noah snorted.

"Guys, let's get a move on," Gansey called. "There's still a ways to go."

This time, when he and Adam got into the car, Ronan rolled down all the windows and cranked up the radio before either of them had a chance to (or to not) talk. They both watched the stars the whole way, and Ronan thought back to the parking lot because Noah was absolutely right.

Adam did have stars in his eyes.

* * *

  ** _*Town in West Virginia, Friday, 10:16 A.M.*_**

Gansey posed as the money launderer, Blue went undercover as one of the bank's accountants. Adam monitored security, Ronan busted some crackheads for later. As for Noah, he was due a job in the near future. Now Gansey and Blue were off doing their little spy business, and Noah let himself into Ronan and Adam's hotel room. Ronan was lying face-up on his bed, counting the cracks in the ceiling for the twenty-sixth time when Noah came in. Ronan nodded in acknowledgment.

"Hey, Ronan. Where's Adam?"

Ronan pointed to the bathroom, where the shower was on.

Noah sighed and flopped onto Adam's bed. "I hate rip deals, they take too long."

"That's the point," Ronan said, massaging his knuckles. "Convince the mark they're getting a deal, then rip 'em off."

"I know," Noah groaned. "But rip deals are no fun. There's no thrill to the risk." He flipped onto his side just as Adam stepped out of the bathroom in jeans, a red t-shirt, and a towel around his neck. "Hi, Adam." Noah waved.

"Hello. You look miserable."

Noah buried his face into Adam's pillow, moaning. "I am!" came his muffled yell. "It's taking too long, and it's hot. It's a hundred and two degrees in this godforsaken town, and I'm pretty sure I sustained multiple sunburns. Not cool, very hot." He came out of the pillow to take a breath. "Plus there's nothing to steal in this tiny desert of a town."

"Noah, you're not supposed to be stealing things," Adam chided, taking a seat at the very edge of his bed.

"I haven't been, 'cause there's nothing _to_ steal."

"I think he means don't even try," Ronan said in his flattest voice possible. 

"I can't, old habits die hard. I stole for a living."

"You kind of still do," Ronan pointed out. 

"Well, yeah." 

Adam toweled off his hair as Noah shifted to find a comfortable position. 

"Can we go do something?" Noah asked, a whine creeping into his voice. "Like, just to tide me over until Gansey needs me. I'm really bored." Ronan shot him a skeptical look. "It doesn't have to be theft!" Noah defended. "We can go, uh...oh!" He sat bolt upright, patting at his pockets. "We can go visit Jesse Dittley. Blue left me his address somewhere, lemme just—ah, here we go." He pulled a piece of crumpled paper out from inside his shirt. 

Adam blinked as if to clear his vision. "Where...? What else do you keep on you?"

"Um..." Noah checked himself up and down, emptying pockets. "My lock pick, of course. I've got a watch. An ultraviolet light. Invisible ink pen. Mm, small makeup kit...oh, look, a diamond from last month." He produced a tiny gem from his shorts pocket. "I should really sell this." 

"Why do you have a makeup kit?" Adam asked. "Did you steal the diamond?"

"Why would you sell a diamond?" Ronan piped up.

Noah pointed to Adam first. "Remember that time Gansey interfered with one of Declan and Ronan's—" one accusing finger went to Ronan "—fights and had a party to attend an hour later?" Adam nodded. "Well, _someone_ had to cover up that cut on Gansey's cheek, and that someone was me. Ever since then, I've been carrying one around. Pretty useful, and it's good if I feel like my skin needs a little brushing up." Noah rubbed his knuckles against his cheek. "Second of all, yes, Adam, I stole this. Two karat diamond from a smuggler. He had tons, wouldn't miss one. Could sell for, say, ten thousand, maybe twelve."

"You wear makeup?" Ronan asked.

"You know what, that's four questions already, you guys are very chatty today," Noah said. "Yes, I do, sometimes. I will not be judged for it."

Ronan held up his hands. "Not hating, just stating."

"Okay, lastly," this was directed at Ronan, "I don't like diamonds, I like money." Noah turned the gem over in his hand, seemingly unimpressed. "Now let's go pay our client a visit." He hopped off the bed and disappeared out the door.

Adam turned to look at Ronan.

Ronan tilted his head in Noah's direction and left the room as well.

* * *

_***Jesse** **Dittley's** **house, Friday, 11:21 A.M.*** _

Ronan rang the doorbell. There was a subtle pounding of footsteps and the door opened.

Ronan had to look up, and up, and maybe a little more. This man—Jesse Dittley—filled the doorway in all his unkempt, unshaven glory. He narrowed his eyes.

"WHO ARE YOU?" he bellowed.

"Blue Sargent's friends," Noah answered.

"Actually, I've never talked—"

Noah elbowed Ronan in the ribs.

"OH." Dittley stepped aside to let them into his house that seemed too small for him. "COME ON IN THEN." Apparently he bellowed everything. He led them to the kitchen, where dishes sat in bubbly water in the sink, and dish rags hung from all the appliances. The whole place smelled like mold and tomato sauce. "SORRY 'BOUT THE MESS. LIKE SOME TEA?" He started pulling chipped mugs and cups from the cabinets and hefted a kettle from the fridge. "TOO HOT FOR HOT TEA LATELY. ICED ONLY." He shoved a mug of cold drink at each of them and sat in a chair with a grunt. "RECKON YOU WONDER WHY I'M NOT PACKIN' MY THINGS YET, EH? WELL BLUE SAID SHE'D GET ME MY HOUSE BACK. GOTTA TRUST BLUE SARGENT, Y'KNOW?"

Ronan just sipped his tea as Adam and Noah both nodded. Noah checked his watch.

"So Mr. Dittley—" Adam started.

"CALL ME JESSE."

"Yes, Jesse. How come your landlord's evicting you?"

Dittley frowned. "POT CHARGE. POLICE CAME, SAID THEY GOT A TIP AND FOUND A STASH IN M' BACKYARD. BUT I SWEAR ON M' MOTHER'S RIGHT HAND I'D NEVER TOUCHED WEED IN MY LIFE." He drank his tea in one huge gulp. "DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT WAS THERE."

Adam nodded knowingly.

Dittley glanced around the room. "HEY, WHERE'S YOUR LIL PALE FRIEND?"

"Noah? He's right—" Adam turned to where Noah sat next to him "—here...Ronan, where's Noah?"

"The hell if I know. He was just here."

Blue's voice crackled over the comm. "Don't worry about Noah. I need you two at the bank. As backup. Just in case."

"In case of what?"

"WHO YOU TALKIN' TO, SON?"

Ronan stood up. "Gotta go, Sargent calls."

"Thanks for the tea," Adam added as Ronan hustled him out the front door and into the car.

"Don't come  _into_ the bank," Blue said in a hushed tone. "Wait outside. Ronan, did you take out those druggies?"

"Yeah, locked 'em in a warehouse."

"Good. We're gonna turn them in later."

Within five minutes, Ronan had parked the car across the street from the bank's glass front door. "Can you see them?" he asked Adam.

"Yeah, kind of."

Someone tapped on Ronan's window. It was Noah, gesturing at the back door. Ronan unlocked it to let him in, and Noah sat down with a briefcase in his lap.

Adam turned around to talk to him. "Where were you? What is that?"

Noah grinned his impish grin he reserved for stealing things and popped the lock on the briefcase. "I was at the bank. I told you Gansey needed me, I was on an errand for him. As for this, this is the jackpot." He lifted the top. In the case, neatly bound, were stacks and stacks of ten, twenty, and hundred dollar bills, all laid bare.

"Holy  _shit_ ," Ronan breathed.

"Dirty money, bribes, life savings. Gansey says if this con goes right, our cut is Truman's personal savings. He won't be needing it once he's behind bars." Noah winked.

Suddenly Ronan's—surely Adam's and Noah's as well—earbuds picked up audio inside the bank. "Where. Is. My money?" Truman yelled. There came a soft  _click_ and screams ensued.

Adam plucked at his right ear. "What was that?"

Ronan and Noah sat stock-still, breaths held, they didn't even blink. Sweat beaded on Adam's palms. "Blue, what's happening?" he whispered. Ronan was the only one of the three to hold his position when a sharp  _CRACK_ rent the air. Blue Sargent screamed, a wail more terrible than banshee's that rang through Ronan's skull.

"Oh, god." Noah's voice was shaky.

"Blue." Adam was trying to keep his voice steady. "Blue, are you okay? Is anyone hurt?"

Ronan was out of the car. "Gansey, do you want me in there?" He waited. No response. "Gansey?"

"Gansey," said Blue. "Gansey's hit."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Ronan pounded the side of his car.

"Ronan, stay calm." Blue seemed to have gotten herself under control. Her voice was barely a lull. "Truman just locked the front door. He refuses to let anyone out until he gets his briefcase back." She took a deep breath. "I can't keep talking to you guys. Truman will get suspicious. For now, you guys are on your own. Get us out of here."

Ronan sat heavily down in the driver's seat.

"What now?" Adam splayed his fingers and studied them.

Ronan drew in a sharp breath. "What now? Now we're getting them out. Strap in." He revved the engine of his car and sped off. "Noah, we're going to the police. Tell them about the bank. Parrish, I hope you kept those Fed jackets Noah stole last month." He paused. "What else did you steal last month?"

Noah shrugged and stepped out of the car as soon as Ronan pulled up to the police station. Adam confirmed the jackets were in the trunk.

"I'll come back to pick you up. Leave the briefcase. I need it."

* * *

_***Outside the bank, Friday, 1:02 P.M.*** _

"Special Agent Hood." Ronan flashed an I.D. badge that Adam had quickly put together for him. "This is Special Agent Haige," he nodded at Adam, "we were dealing with a border skirmish. Just heard about the bank holdup," he said in his most authoritatively intimidating voice, which is to say, very authoritative, and extremely intimidating.

The head officer nodded, albeit suspiciously.

"I've received a call. Whoever's holding up the bank has demanded his briefcase be returned to him before any hostages are to be freed." Adam stood next to Ronan, looking slightly less impressive in his large jacket, standing half a head shorter than Ronan.

"Found a briefcase at the warehouse with an _E. Truman_ insignia." Ronan held the briefcase that Noah stole in his hands. "I assume it's his."

The head officer stroked his beard. "Yeah, I've seen that briefcase before.

"Good," said Ronan. "I'll, uh, go in first, get him off guard."

Adam eyed him worriedly and Ronan scoffed.

"You think this'll be the first time I've had a gun pointed at me?" Ronan pushed past Adam and knocked thrice on the bank's door. "Open up! We have what you want." He saw the judge himself move toward the door to unlock it. Ronan rolled his eyes. "Amateur." The door swung open. Ronan held out the briefcase. The judge reached for it with his right hand, gun in his left. Ronan grabbed the judge's left wrist and twisted hard.

The gun dropped, the man howled, and his wrist went  _crack._ Ronan kicked him in the crotch and he crumpled.

Ronan heard a dozen guns cocking, saw them all aimed at the writhing body on the floor. "You, and you." Ronan pointed to two local officers. "Get the hostages out safely." Then he crouched next to the judge, in a ring of armed policemen. "What's in the briefcase?"

Truman wheezed. "Money, just money."

Ronan popped the top of the case.

The head officer lowered his gun. "Good god..."

Ronan dumped the dozens upon dozens of tiny clear packets onto the judge. "Crystal meth. You call this money? Off your meds today, eh, Your Honor?"

"No, no no no." Truman sat up.

Adam stepped forward to the head officer's side. "I'd expect his records to be checked, as well as his many questionable court trials."

"Of course," the officer stammered.

"And the bribe money—"

"What bribe?"

Adam handed over a paper bag of cash. "I hope these will be distributed to the families of Judge Truman's many victims upon investigation." Adam then turned and marched for Ronan's car. Ronan followed close behind.

"Also, your local drug boys are at the warehouse." He clapped the head officer on the back and got in his car, where Adam sat shotgun, and Noah had Gansey propped in the backseat, treating the bullet wound.

"Where's Sargent?"

"She's taking the rental car back to the hotel," Adam responded.

"So," Gansey groaned, "FBI jackets? Where from?"

"Noah stole them," Ronan said.

"Why and how would you steal that?"

"Look," Noah said as he worked at Gansey's injury, "I won't be judged on how I entertain myself over the weekend."

"Speaking of judge," Gansey gestured under the backseat, "your cut of the money is under the seat, Ronan. Now can we please get me a morphine drip?"

* * *

_***Adam's apartment (Cabeswater Drive), Saturday, 9:42 A.M.*** _

"So what ended up happening with Dittley?" Adam asked.

"He got his house back," Noah replied. "Got some compensation funds from the police too. I guess he's happy."

"Oh, good." Adam balanced his box of belongings on one arm and dished out his keys with his free hand.

"Hurry, Adam," Noah puffed. "I can't hold this mattress much longer."

Adam unlocked the door to his new place and held the door open for Ronan and Noah, who maneuvered the mattress into the apartment.

"Oh boy." Noah let his end drop. "Oh, my arms are spaghetti."

Ronan looked around. It was a small place, but not cramped. A sitting area with nothing but a couch and an armchair. There was a sliding glass door that lead to a balcony. There was a little kitchen off to the side, and a short hallway sharply right of the front door leading to the bedroom and bathroom. The walls were white and bare, the floors were warm, matte wood, worn and scratched from use. A place without much furniture, yet to Ronan still felt homey.

"Home sweet home, Adam." Noah gave Adam a gentle push to the shoulder. "We'll take you mattress to the bedroom."

Ronan shifted the mattress in his sore arms, hefting it alongside Noah, behind Adam.

In the bedroom, there was a door to the bathroom, a closet, and a bed frame stripped bare.

"On three," Noah ordered. "One, two, three!" Together they hoisted the mattress into the frame, which fit, magically.

Adam had set his box next to the bed. "I've got some more things down in the car. Clothes, pillows, bedshee—"

"We'll help," Noah said, sliding an arm around Adam's shoulders, reached out to Ronan with his other. Ronan pushed it aside but walked next to them. "I'm still so happy you got your own place!" Noah squealed. Adam smiled. "Aren't you, Ronan?"

Ronan just ruffled Adam's hair.


	3. The Little Orphan Girl Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponding Leverage episode: the Stork Job

_***Monmouth, Saturday, 1:32 A.M.*** _

Noah was a very, very light sleeper. Unless it was upside down, he slept fairly well hanging in the air shaft of a building, but that wasn't the case right now. Right now Ronan Lynch was in the next room over, on the phone, speaking in sharp hisses and angry grunts. Noah knew this meant something was wrong. For starters, Noah knew just about the only time Ronan picked up the phone was when his brother Matthew called. Second of all, Noah knew Ronan did not whisper furiously at his precious little brother.

Noah wondered who had Ronan so riled up in the middle of the night. Declan maybe? Ronan's estranged elder brother. But Ronan never took calls from Declan, Ronan hated Declan as much as Noah loved his job. (Stealing.)(Loved it a lot.)

With one final frustrated groan, Ronan hung up, and silence settled.

Noah tucked his chin in and pulled his blanket up to his nose. He had just gotten used to the quiet, then jumped when something banged in Ronan's room. He realized it was the door and Ronan was now pacing the hallway, murmuring under his breath. Noah decided to check on him, so he cracked his bedroom door open a smidge and peeked out. "Ronan?"

Ronan stopped his walking and turned toward Noah, who expected Ronan to storm back to his room or say something like "go away, Noah." Instead, he asked, "Did I wake you?" with deeply knitted brows.

Noah opened the door the whole way and sat against the frame. "Kind of." Noah also knew Ronan preferred the truth, however small. "What's up?"

Ronan still had his phone in hand, he waved it limply. "A, uh...friend."

Noah raised an eyebrow.

Ronan sighed and slid to the floor, back resting on a wall. "Calls me up in the middle of the night from her friend's slumber party, tells me she has a bad feeling, then starts crying, goddamn. Tries telling me her parents are in trouble. Keeps on crying. Told her I'd pick her up first thing in the morning."

"What kind of trouble?"

"The hell if I know. Might've just been a..." Ronan faltered. Ronan never faltered.

"A what?" Noah prompted.

"A nightmare," Ronan finished.

"Oh." Noah didn't know of Ronan having female friends. There was Ashley, Declan's girlfriend, but Ronan really didn't give two shits about her. Then there was Blue, who knew Adam and Gansey well, and very much enjoyed Noah's company, but to whom Ronan had spoken with about three times in the past month: Once to ask where the bathroom at Fox Way was, once to tell her his BMW was off-limits, and once because Gansey thought they didn't bond well enough and sat them down in an attempt to get them to chat. Ronan wasn't very impressed.

"Get back to sleep, Noah," Ronan said, getting to his feet.

"I'll go with you," Noah offered, reciprocating Ronan's rare consideration, "to pick her up."

Ronan shrugged, looking a lot less livid now. "Sure. I'll wake you up in, say, seven hours."

Noah nodded and retreated to his still-warm bed.

True to his word, Ronan was shaking Noah awake seven hours later. "Get up, gotta go."

Noah slapped at Ronan's hands. "I'm up, stop!"

Ronan ceased his shaking.

"Ever knock?" Noah grouched.

"Get up." Ronan strode out of the room in his muscle tee and expensive jeans, the tips of black feathers hooking out from his collar.

Noah slipped into a pair of worn blue jeans and a white tee shirt with "PUNK" printed onto the front in deep pink. He combed back his hair with his fingers and rushed to the bathroom to brush his teeth and relieve himself, then rushed to the kitchen to grab a banana before sitting in the passenger seat of the BMW, in which Ronan sat gnawing at his leather wristbands. Noah peeled his banana and said with a mouthful, "Let's go, shall we?"

Ronan started the engine and drove off. He was silent the whole way to a two storey, off-white house with a blue front door and a lush green lawn. A little girl was sitting on the front porch. She had a little purple backpack in her lap. She wore a white dress and had short hair topped with a skullcap. Ronan rolled down Noah's window. "Come on!" he called.

The girl jumped to her feet and ran for the car.

Noah reached back and unlocked the door. She was very short, her feet barely touched the floor when she sat. She looked no more than ten and a little like Noah's younger sister Adele. Her large eyes were rimmed with red. As soon as she buckled herself in, Ronan peeled away from the curb, speeding in the direction opposite the one they came from.

Noah heard the commotion and the sirens before he saw anything. Then it all came into view. Two police cruisers, an ambulance, a small group of onlookers, all gathered around a small, cozy-looking house. Noah stepped out of the car, helping the little girl out. She took Noah's arm in one grubby hand, Ronan's in the other as he came around the side.

Noah let the girl tow him along. The edge of the lawn was taped off in violent yellow. A police officer stopped Ronan in his tracks.

"Sir, you're not authorized to enter."

Ronan nodded to the girl. "This is her house."

The officer eyed her, eyebrows upturned. "I understand, but no one is to enter except for the paramedics and the police. There was a monoxide poisoning last night. It's only for your safety."

Noah exchanged an anxious glance with Ronan.

"What?" The little girl tugged on Ronan's wristbands. "What?"

"Wait," Ronan told her.

Another officer marched out of the house, handing the officer on guard a piece of paper. "Found this on the nightstand." The guard officer flipped the folded piece open, then handed it to Ronan, who handed it to Noah in turn as he pulled the girl aside and crouched to talk to her. Noah smoothed the paper over to read it. He gulped back a gasp.

_Tell my daughter I'm sorry._

"Suicide case," the guard officer said sympathetically. Behind him, two policemen who appeared to be twins exited the house, popping back into their cruisers, followed by two paramedics pushing two stretchers, each with a body bag. Noah nodded to the officer and went to join Ronan, who held a sobbing little girl in his arms. Ronan sighed and jerked his chin at the BMW. Noah nodded silently, hopped in, and waited for Ronan to get in the driver's seat with a loud grunt.

"Now what?" Noah splayed his slim fingers in his lap.

"Now?" Ronan started driving toward Monmouth. "Now we go back to Monmouth, and we find some murderers."

* * *

_***Monmouth, Saturday, 10:01 A.M.*** _

Adam and Blue sat in the living room with the girl, fruits and snacks laid out on the coffee table. Gansey sat at the dining table with Noah and Ronan.

"How is this a murder?" Noah asked. "The officer said suicide."

" _Looks_ _like_ a suicide," Ronan remarked. "Give me the note." Noah fished the paper out of his pocket. Ronan spread it on the table for both Noah as well as Gansey to see. He pointed to the t in "daughter". "Tried to mimic the father's handwriting, pretty good too, except one thing. He writes his t's like crosses, doesn't hook the end like it is here. And here..." Ronan moved his finger to the two r's in "sorry". "He doesn't connect his r's." He pushed the note to Gansey. "This isn't real. It's not suicide. He wasn't that kind of man either."

Noah glanced at Ronan. He was creased between the brows, and his jaw was tight, a vein was making its mark on his temple.

"How do you know that?" Gansey folded the note, passing it back.

"Family friend," Ronan replied curtly. Noah didn't think they were really friends.

Gansey nodded. "Well, what do we do about the girl? We can't rear her. Do we, erm, check her into an orphana—"

"No," Noah cut in sharply, heart pounding. "We'll find her a new family, or, or...don't stick her in an orphanage." Gansey and Ronan both looked at him funny. Noah flushed. "Nothing."

Gansey rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. "Noah, look, I know you grew up in the system, but if we have no choices left, we'll have to—"

"I know," Noah said quietly. "I know." He pointed at Gansey. "But only if we've got no choice."

"Alright."

Noah stood up and plopped down next to Blue, who had the girl in her lap. Blue smiled at him. He smiled gently back, then brushed his hand through the girl's hair, very soft and smooth. She looked at him, a slice of apple in her hand. Noah continued to brush her hair until not a single knot was to be found, then braided it down her back. She giggled softly, but her eyebrows were still knitted, and her eyes were still bloodshot. Noah felt his heart twang. He saw her sister in the little girl, that light hair, those full cheeks, that set of wide eyes, and the way one corner of her mouth lifted when she smiled. Noah recalled—

He cut off the memory before it could tear his heart out all over again. Noah didn't feel like crying today.

Gansey and Ronan joined the rest of the gang in the living room. 

The girl wiggled out of Blue's lap and climbed into Ronan's.

"You know what? I'll take her to Mom for now," Ronan said. "At the Barns. I think Mom could use a little company." He stood, taking the girl with him. She whimpered.

"I'll go with you," Noah offered, following Ronan to his car.

* * *

_***The Barns, Saturday, 10:56 A.M.*** _

The Barns never ceased to amaze Noah. He didn't think there could be so much green in one place, nor so many fruit-laden branches. One would never go hungry here. Cows milled about, grazing, and deer danced on the edge of the woods. Ronan's house stood at the end of the driveway, warm and welcoming. Noah loved the house, and it's inhabitant Aurora Lynch, Ronan's mother.

Noah held out his hand to the girl as she slid out of the car. She took it tentatively, letting Ronan and Noah lead her through the front door, past the living room with its plush sofas, and up a flight of stairs to the master bedroom. Aurora Lynch herself lay in bed, propped up against pillows, reading Homer's Odyssey. Sunlight slanted into the room just right so that it lit up Aurora's hair, and her skin glowed.

"Hey, Mom," Ronan said. "How's the book?"

A smile with warmth that rivaled the sun's spread on Aurora's face at the sound of her middle son's voice. She beckoned, and Ronan bent down at her bedside so she could kiss his cheek. Ronan's lips twitched into a tiny smile as he gestured at Noah and the girl, speaking in a low voice to his mother. The girl gripped Noah's hand a little more tightly. Finally, Aurora nodded, then beckoned for the girl as well. Noah shuffled over with her. Aurora patted the girl's shoulder reassuringly. "It'll be alright." Aurora scooted aside to let the girl into bed. She didn't move.

"Go on," Ronan told her as softly as a Ronan could. He picked her up and dropped her down against the down pillows. "Take care. We'll see you later, Mom." He turned and left the room.

"Well, bye...Mrs. Lynch." Noah's farewell came out sounding like a question.

"Goodbye."

The girl took Noah's hand and pressed a spherical solid into it, then she waved goodbye.

Noah hurried to the BMW, its engine thrumming. Ronan waited in the driver's seat and hit the gas before Noah even buckled himself in. Noah studied the thing in his hand. It was a clear marble. Encased in the glass was a shiny bee, metallic-looking. The bee's striped abdomen pulsed with amber light. "Ronan, do you know what this is?" He held the marble out for Ronan to take a look at.

Ronan slammed his brakes so hard.

"Whoa, whoa." Noah braced himself against the door.

"Where did you get that?" Ronan asked.

"The girl gave it to me."

"This used to be part of Dad's collection until he sold it," Ronan said, more to himself than Noah as he took the marble and rolled it around in his palm. "Everyone bids for Dad's artifacts." He explained his father's business to Noah all the way back to Monmouth, then showed Gansey, Adam, and Blue the marble and explained it all over again.

"Your father deals with dangerous people," Gansey said.

"Dealt with," Ronan corrected grimly.

Noah shivered at the macabre comment.

"I remember her father bid for this marble, and got it," Ronan said.

"Well, why does she have it at a slumber party?" Noah asked. "Did her dad give it to her? Plus the murder happened the night she was away." Noah settled on the sofa. "Do you think her dad knew he was gonna die?"

Everyone stared at him. "I think you're on to something," Gansey said.

Noah rolled his eyes. "You think?"

"Ronan, does this marble have any special function?" Gansey asked.

"I don't know."

"Special value?"

"I don't know."

"Other bidders?"

"I don't know."

"You know who  _will_  know?"

Ronan hesitated. "Don't you dare."

"Yeah." Gansey grinned.

"No," Ronan snarled.

"Declan."

"You _fucker_."

"I'll call Declan," Gansey assured. "You don't have to talk to him." And he went away to another room. Ronan huffed, picking a handful of M&M's from a bowl on the coffee table. Gansey returned five minutes later, tucking his phone into his pocket. "Declan doesn't know why it's so special, but he did say there was another bidder. His name was Laumonier."

Ronan sat up, a few chocolates spilling from his hand. "That's not one person," he said dangerously, "that's three people, triplets." Gansey looked confused. "They're relentless," Ronan continued. "They chase what they want like hounds on a trail, they'll..." For the second time as far as Noah had experienced, Ronan faltered. "They must know she's not dead by now. They must have searched the house...the policemen." Ronan turned to Noah. "The policemen."

Noah remembered the twin policemen who exited the house before the paramedics. "Yeah, they looked the same. One had kind of a wider jaw."

"We need to get back to the Barns," Ronan said, stuffing the rest of his M&M's into his mouth. "Now, Noah." He grabbed Noah's wrist and practically dragged him to the car. On the way to the Barns, Noah pieced two and two together. Laumonier wanted bee-marble. Girl had bee-marble. Girl also not dead. Girl with Aurora at Barns. Bad.

Ronan swung into the driveway, his wheels kicked up dirt and dust. Noah gritted his teeth as the car screeched to a stop, and Ronan had already gotten out. Noah could hear Ronan's yell, "Laumonier!" Noah scrambled out of the BMW, unsure of what to do. Ronan was by the front door, grappling with a man in a trimmed cream suit. Judging by the blows Ronan delivered and how many of them landed squarely, Noah guessed Laumonier wasn't big on fisticuffs, which meant he had another method of attack, which meant—

"Get to the room," Ronan called, taking a fist to the chest. "Make sure they're okay!"

Noah was hesitant to leave Ronan, especially if Laumonier could have a gun, but he himself wasn't great at hand-to-hand either. Since the front door was impassable, Noah skirted 'round back to try the back door, but it was locked. Noah wrung his hands, then spotted the balcony of Aurora's room on the next storey up. If there was one thing Noah was good at, it was infiltration. He stood up on the kitchen window ledge, jumped, grabbed the edge of the balcony, and hoisted himself over the railing, feeling the tiniest rush of adrenaline. Noah tapped on the glass sliding doors, and Aurora looked up from her book, which she was reading aloud to the girl. Noah gestured urgently, and Aurora leapt out of bed to let him in.

"What is it?" Aurora asked, looking past him to the balcony. "Are you okay? Where's Ronan?"

 "Ronan's...preoccupied." Noah took a quick look at the girl, who flipped the Odyssey's pages looking for illustrations. "He told me to make sure you guys are okay." He crossed the room to look out the other window. There were Ronan and Laumonier, and Laumonier had just pulled out a gun. "Holy—" Noah pushed the window open and grabbed for something to throw, but Ronan effectively kicked Laumonier's arm, sending the weapon flying into the bushes.

And yet.

_BANG!_

The girl screamed. Noah jumped. Aurora froze up.

Noah glanced around frantically. Neither Ronan nor Laumonier held guns, but Laumonier was lying in the grass, unmoving, his very fancy coat reddening at the breast. The bushes rustled. Ronan was too bewildered to move.

"Is Ronan...?" Aurora turned to face Noah stiffly.

"No, he's fine. Laumonier though—"

"Laumonier?" Aurora joined Noah at the window. "What does Laumonier want? Niall's gone, I don't run his old business."

"He doesn't want anything from you," Noah tried explaining, despite not being very well-briefed on the subject. "He wants something from her." He pointed at the girl, who squeaked fearfully at the accusation.

"Why?" Aurora stuck her head out the window. "Ronan, dear, come on up." Ronan unlocked the front door and entered the house.

Noah pulled the bee-marble from his pocket. "Declan said Laumonier wanted this, which she had."

"Oh. I do remember this being part of Niall's things."

Ronan walked into the room, a little bloody and roughed up, but otherwise unharmed. He did, however, look shaken having just witnessed a man die. Aurora immediately gave him a hug, disregarding the blood from his lips smearing her white nightgown.

Something in Noah's chest twinged. Ronan and Aurora began a small argument about whether or not to let the girl stay at the Barns. Aurora won, and the girl stayed. Ronan was a little bit miffed, but Aurora assured him she'd keep them both out of trouble.

So Noah and Ronan left the Barns for the second time.

As soon as they returned to Monmouth, occupied only by Gansey now, Ronan relayed the story, including the skirmish with Laumonier, and they got into an argument about Ronan's decision to leave the girl at the Barns, as well as his neglect for the fact there was a killer on the loose. Noah did his best to tune them out as he ate M&M's off the table.

"How are you going to keep an eye on her?"

"I'm not! Mom is."

"You're putting your mother in too much risk, according to your recount of Laumonier."

"Laumonier is dead."

"There's two more of him."

"Mom promised to keep them both safe. I'd trust her."

"Ronan, if anything happens to your mother..." Gansey lowered his voice. "Maybe we should just check her into a...you know, orphanage." He glanced at Noah, who seemed none the wiser. Ronan just groaned and penned himself in his room.

Noah watched Gansey take his usual seat at the dining table, twirling his pen and tapping his journal, then jotting down a few things. Gansey smiled wanly at Noah and retreated to his bedroom as well. Noah picked off the last of his M&M's and went to his room. He opened the window as wide as it would go and wiggled his way out, climbing onto the flat concrete roof of Monmouth. He toed the weeds growing out of the cracks, dandy and green despite their poor conditions. Maybe he should get some plants for his room, they'd probably keep him from stealing in his free time. Noah lay down, legs dangling off the edge and arms under his head as he watched the glowing clouds go by.

The little orphan girl found her way into his thoughts. Gansey couldn't put her in an orphanage. Too dank, too unfriendly, bad food, and godforsaken counseling sessions. Noah still hated the counseling sessions. Stabbing someone with a fork was a perfectly valid response to being touched when he didn't want to be, Noah didn't think his counselor got the memo.

He drifted in and out of sleep with a breeze in his ears and a ladybug on his lips.

"Noah!"

It was Ronan yelling for him.

Noah opened his eyes. The sky had darkened to streaks of purple and pink. He heard Ronan knocking on his bedroom door. "Gansey ordered pizza from Nino's." Noah draped himself over the side of the building as Ronan poked his head out of the window, his tattooed shoulders tense. "Noah?"

"Yeah?"

"Ronan turned upward. "Dinner. What are you doing up there?"

"Thinking. Napping."

Ronan didn't say anything, but "about what?" hung in the air as Ronan's piercingly blue eyes bore into Noah.

Noah felt his own eyes sting and water. He opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out, so he cleared his throat and croaked, "Gansey can't put her into an orphanage. He can't. You put children into the system and—" He broke off when he wavered to blink furiously. "And they might end up like me." Noah's voice cracked, and his eyes were too blurred with tears for him to see the pained expression that flashed across Ronan's hard features. Noah wiped his eyes and sniffled, glancing down to find Ronan still looking at him.

Ronan swallowed. "I like how you turned out," he said. "Now come on, dinner."

Noah shivered and lowered himself to his window and slid inside, checking himself in a full-length mirror with a tender smile.

* * *

_***The Barns, Saturday, 8:32 P.M.*** _

That day, Ronan and Noah took one last trip to the Barns.

"She's officially staying with you now," Ronan was telling Aurora while the little girl ran around outside, picking fruits off trees and handing them to Noah as soon as her arms were full.

Aurora gave Ronan a hug, then called to the girl, "Say bye-bye to Ronan and Noah, honey!" So the girl gave Ronan a hug as Noah let Aurora Lynch take the plums and peaches from him. The girl approached him with a shy smile, she held out her arms. Noah gawked for a good while before he knelt to let her wrap her arms around his neck and nuzzle her cheek into his neck.

"Bye bye, Noah," she said.

Noah patted her back. "Bye." She let go, her smile grew. "Hey, I still don't know your name," he said slowly.

"Opal," she replied, no hesitation.

"Cool." Noah stood up and ruffled her hair. "Seeya, Opal."

 


	4. The Geek-Out Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponding Leverage episode: the King George Job

_***Monmouth, Friday, 1:37 P.M.*** _

As they all walked into Monmouth after a fresh con, Gansey's phone rang and he went away to another room to answer. Blue was telling Noah, "You can't just...stab someone with a fork, Noah."

"Yes, I can!" Noah protested, his hands were still a little shaky, shoulders still tense. "He was threatening, and I was...well, triggered. It's instinct, self-defense, it's me coping and surviving." He popped open a pack of M&M's and started picking out the green ones.

Blue Sargent sighed. "Noah, I...you...we got your back. If you screw up on a con we can bail you out." She sat down on one of three sofas and watched him seat himself before the coffee table, enacting M&M wars by crushing two chocolates together. "Just...try not to shish kebab anyone, okay?"

Noah ate an M&M with a crushed outside. "I'll try."

Ronan slid onto the sofa opposite Blue and kicked his feet up onto Noah's shoulders. Noah jumped, his hands flew about as if to grab for something to stab Ronan with. Then he seemed to realize Ronan meant no harm and he'd just promised Blue not to stab anyone. "Shit, sorry," he murmured. "Instinct." Noah rested his hands on Ronan's ankles. "You know what, Blue? You should teach me people skills."

Blue made a face. "That's more Gansey's forte."

"I know, but Gansey does the fancy people skills." Noah frowned. "I barely have casual people skills because I never grew up with...adequate interaction. Which is what you, Blue, are good at. I feel like I should...probably know how to hold a conversation with a mark during cons, at least." Blue hesitated, Noah sighed long and loud. "Blue, please. I really don't like asking for help. Just help me."

Blue folded her hands. "Alright, then. For starters, play into your mark." She gestured at Noah, then at herself. "For instance, if you're the mark and I'm the grifter, I would introduce myself by playing into either the business at hand or your interest. Since there is no formal business, I should try to introduce myself followed by a statement about something you like. For example." Blue cleared her throat and reseated herself on the floor. "Jane Sargent. Is it true that you..." Blue faltered. She felt her heart sink and her mind go blank. She looked at Noah as it dawned on her that she didn't know what Noah liked or disliked. "I don't know anything about you."

"I like money," Noah said flatly. "And safes. But Worthington 2000's are a pain." He cocked his head, in thought. "Plants are cute."

"You don't say," Ronan mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Noah." Blue circled around the table to sit at Noah's side. "I don't know anything about you."

"It's okay." Noah shrugged. "I don't know anything about you guys either. Except Ronan. Ronan likes—"

"Shut the fuck up." Ronan nudged Noah's face with his foot.

Noah slapped Ronan's leg and turned to Blue. "Come on, teach me the grift thing."

"Okay, just...forget everything I said earlier." Blue waved her hand as if to dismiss her words. "It's supposed to come almost naturally. People are pompous asses, so you have to make the conversation about them. If I'm talking to Gansey, I'd ramble on about history and old libraries and vintage cars. If I'm talking to Adam, I'd talk about his aspirations and plants and—oh. OH!" She pounded her palm with her fist and looked at Ronan reclining against the sofa. "And if I'm talking to Ronan, I would talk about cars and booze and, I don't know, 'what do you think of Adam Parrish?'" Ronan gnashed his teeth at her. Blue smiled knowingly and tapped her finger to her lips.

Noah grinned. "You pick up things quickly, don't you?"

"All in a day's work for a grifter."

"Shut the fuck up," Ronan said again.

Adam plopped down on the sofa behind Noah, next to Ronan. "Someone say my name?" His faint smile and drifting eyes told Blue his question was genuine.

"Mm-mm." Blue shook her head. "Where's Gansey?"

Gansey chose this moment to enter the living room, tucking his phone into his pocket. His face was ashen as he fished for his car keys.

"Gansey?" Blue was on her feet in a flash.

"I'm going to the hospital." He gripped the Pig's keys tightly. "Helen."

Blue placed a hand on his arm. "What happened to Helen?" She felt her fingernails dig into Gansey's skin. Gansey's mouth twitched in lieu of an answer, but he didn't shake her off as he made his way to his car, so Blue followed him and slipped into the passenger's seat. The whole way Blue was wary of Gansey's too-tight hands on the wheel with their too-white knuckles, wary of him hovering just above the speed limit and hitting the brakes a little too hard, wary of his narrowing eyes and increasing frown. Gansey parked hastily and hastened to the reception desk.

"Helen Gansey," he told the nurse, and Blue was ushered into Helen's room with him.

Helen Gansey lay on a heap of pillows with bruised cheeks and arms wrapped in bandages. She cracked a smile as Gansey stepped in. "Dick." She tried to turn onto her side but lay back down in pain. "If I'd known you'd visit, I'd've gotten the shit kicked out of me a long time ago."

Gansey frowned and sat down on the stool at her bedside. Blue stood a little farther back.

Helen waved at Blue. "You brought your girlfriend. Hi, Jane." Blue gave a small wave of her hand.

"Not my girlfriend," Gansey said, but his words lacked their usual resolve. "How are you?"

"Uncomfortable," Helen said, just like a Gansey, as specifically as vaguely concise allowed.

"What's the story?"

Helen took a deep breath, winced, and relaxed. "Well, you know how I fly planes, transport expensive goods, artwork, merchandise? I don't really know the whole story, to be quite honest, I wasn't the original target. The original target was the vase I was supposed to be transporting. It was a bid deal. Some rich bidder approached the owner and my boss to offer a new bid after the original deal had already been closed. His name was...Green-something, had a puffed-up wife and a bodyguard. Boss refused, and I, the pilot, happened to be there for the bidder to prove just how much he wanted that vase. Actually, it looked more like the wife wanted the vase."

"Wouldn't the owner protest? About the previous bidder?" Gansey asked.

"I don't think he cared. He just didn't want the vase."

"Did you have the vase when this—" Gansey gestured at Helen's beat-up form "—happened?"

"No, it was still at the owner's mansion at the time." Helen sighed, looking over Gansey's troubled expression. "Don't worry about me. A week and a half of rest and some pain pills and I'm good to go. I even get paid while I'm here so no real loss." She paused. "Except for the original buyer for the vase, I suppose." She patted Gansey's hand reassuringly. "Run along, now, Dickie. Don't you have a date to get back to?"

"Not a date," Gansey said, with a little more resolve this time.

"Say, you two wouldn't happen to know where I could stay for awhile after I'm discharged, would you? I don't really want Mom and Dad to see me too battered yet."

Gansey looked at Blue. Blue shrugged and suggested, "Fox Way, my place. My mom'll feed you well, my aunt will keep you disinfected and smelling like...well, whatever herbs she's working with. The kids there will keep you occupied. My cousin will keep you up through the night."

Helen quirked her lips, her perfect cupid's bow scrunching up. "In what way?"

Gansey stood up and made for the door.

Helen beckoned for Blue. "Keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, he tends to do stupid things when he's anxious."

"I've noticed."

Helen chuckled. "Treat him right, and I'll take up your offer with Fox Way."

Blue rolled her eyes and followed Gansey out of the room.

"Text me your cousin's phone number!" Helen called after her.

* * *

_***Monmouth, Friday, 2:37 P.M.*** _

"Adam, pull up the Vase of Dorian-Linn." Gansey was strangely re-energized for someone who was just so dejected and grim. Though seeing as it was Richard Gansey, maybe it wasn't _too_ strange. Blue knew him well enough to recognize the buzz of vibrancy he had when he set his mind on a case.

"Dorian-Linn?" Adam reached for the laptop in his messenger bag. "Why?"

"For Helen's payback." Gansey adjusted his glasses and sat next to Adam at the dining table.

"What's this vase?" Blue asked, tossing her phone onto the sofa on which Ronan and Noah still crashed. Noah picked it up to check it out. Blue crossed over to Gansey and Adam, looking at the images that appeared in the browser. The vase was crafted from black metal, tall and slim. The details on it were excruciating, depicting scenes of gruesome death and torture. Blue stuck out her tongue. "Eugh, who'd want _that_?"

"An avid collector," Gansey answered. The man didn't know a rhetorical question even if it spat in his face. "Very precious, and very macabre. Heirloom of the prestigious Dorian-Linn family of Ireland, until last month, when the uncle of the youngest—now the only survivng—family member died in a car crash, legally passing the vase on to this young man. Rumor has it the vase is cursed and causes death. In fact, the last-last Dorian-Linn to directly own the vase got hit by a jet ski, and the one before that died in a plane crash, and the one before that was trampled and run over by a carriage in Ireland." Adam and Blue both gaped at Gansey. "The only Dorian-Linn alive didn't want to keep the vase—for good reason—so he held an auction to get rid of it. Since he lived in his mansion in Maine, that's where the bidding took place a week ago." Blue watched Gansey pull Adam's laptop closer to himself and do a quick search. "Apparently he's cleaned out his storage after getting rid of the vase and is holding another auction this week to sell the rest of his things."

"I thought you were a Welsh historian," Noah said, scrolling through Blue's phone with Ronan looking over his shoulder.

"I dabble," Gansey replied. "And keep up with recent events."

"Hey!" Blue exclaimed, hurrying to snatch her phone away from Noah. "How'd you get into it?"

Noah grinned. "Remember to clean your fingerprints next time."

"I like your home screen background," Ronan commented.

"Shut the fuck up," Blue said.

"Jane!" Gansey gasped, astonished. "No cussing."

"Oh, shut up," Blue snapped, somehow with more bite than when she cussed.

Gansey looked cowed as he returned his attention to Adam's computer. "So who is this mysterious new bidder? Green-something, Helen said."

"Greenmantle," Ronan said. Gansey sent him a bewildered look. Ronan sighed and rolled his eyes, flipping his hands dismissively. "Heard Declan talking about him once. Don't remember what he's like, sounded like a dickhead though."

"Greenmantle," Gansey repeated, he patted Adam on the shoulder, urging him to Google Greenmantle.

"Colin Greenmantle," Adam started. "Let's see... Rare pieces/antique collector, mid-forties. Huh, he looks pretty good, actually. Married to Piper Greenmantle. Piper's filthy rich from her dad's funding. Don't see anything hinky yet. I'll run some web crawlers and see what we can dig up." Adam pushed his laptop aside, a knowing expression making its way to his face. He faced Gansey. "So what's the plan?"

Gansey rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, he was practically humming with excitement. "We can't let Greenmantle get that vase."

"He already has it," Ronan said. "Even if he doesn't physically have it, he's slapped down enough money to secure his ownership."

"Yes, whatever." Gansey waved his hand. Ronan frowned. "But he's not _going_ to get it. Helen said the vase was still at the Dorian-Linn mansion when all this started, and since the heir is holding an auction this week it will be the best time to hand it off. And _we_ are going to steal it. And then maybe give it away. That thing is hideous." Everyone—Adam, Ronan, Noah, Blue—stared at him. He spread his hands, a wild grin on his face. "He's not getting what he wants after assaulting _my_ sister. Pack your bags, my friends. We're going to Maine." He headed for his room.

Noah looked perplexed. "Is he always like that?"

Blue sighed, folding her hands in her lap.

"Yes," she and Adam said at the same time. Then Adam said, "That's still not a plan."

* * *

_***Dorian-Linn mansion, Saturday, 11:04 A.M.*** _

 "I'm staying in the car," Ronan said. "I'm staying in the car!" He repeated when Gansey protested. "I'm not gonna wear a suit and go in and sit through people yelling numbers at inanimate objects. I'm staying. In. The car."

"Gansey, leave him." Blue put her hand on Gansey's arm. "We've got comms, if you need him he'll know." She fixed the coat of her light grey pantsuit and adjusted her silver necklace. "But...if I can wear something fancy schmancy then so can you." This was directed at Ronan. He snarled.

Adam knocked on the roof of the car. "Remind me why we all should go in when Noah's the only one doing any real work."

Gansey straightened and smoothed his dark dress coat. "Because I'm thinking of buying something."

"Nerd." Blue rolled her eyes.

Noah snorted from his seat atop the car. He was clad in black, with supple boots on his feet and thin gloves stuffed into his pocket. "Where's our rendezvous?"

"Here," Gansey said, pointing at the car. "I'm sure a thief of your caliber could get from Greenmantle's armored truck to here with a million-dollar vase no problem."

"Do you doubt me?" Noah stuck his nose right up to Gansey's. "The sass is not helping."

"I trust you," Gansey said, politely pushing Noah away. "Well then, Jane, Adam."

Blue followed Gansey and Adam in through the front door of the stone manor, not before mouthing _"Nerd"_ once more to Noah, who snorted again.

The foyer was enormous. Blue audibly gasped at the milky high-rise ceiling and its many crystal chandeliers, the wrought-iron banisters forged in the shape of fleurs-de-lis, the brilliant glass shamrock melded into the floor-to-ceiling windows... Black wooden benches were placed in rows to a raised dais in the doorway to the living room. A podium and display table stood on the dais. People in cocktail dresses and tuxedoes and boas milled about.

"Riches, luxuries, wolves in sheep's clothing," Adam murmured.

"Exactly Gansey's type of place," Blue finished for him.

"Yes," Gansey said ridiculously flatly. "I feel right at home." He rolled his eyes at both his friends.

"Sass," Adam warned.

"Not helping," Blue added.

Gansey sighed and picked a seat close to the dais, Blue and Adam settling on either side of him.

"I'm leaving as soon as it gets boring," Blue whispered. Gansey looked awfully offended. Blue smoothed her pants and made to stand up. "Okay, I'm going."

"No, no!" Gansey tugged at her coat sleeve. "At least sit through the first item." His eyebrows were upturned.

Adam snorted as quietly as he could. "You've been hanging out with Ronan, haven't you?"

Blue sat back down and made herself comfortable. "Yes. Yes, I have."

"What?" Gansey asked. "You two never get along."

"No, we don't," Blue said. "Er, didn't. You know why?" Gansey shook his head helplessly. "So I was out with Noah the other day, he took me shopping, and he required Ronan to come along because, you know, Noah." Gansey nodded along. "This guy came up to me when Noah was decking Ronan out in leather jewelry and told me I had nice legs." Now Gansey looked a little scared. "I told him off, he got mad and tried to make a grab for me." Now Gansey looked mad. "And I...sort of punched him in the face." Gansey looked astonished. Adam seemed very impressed. "Anyway, Noah came over immediately and had this whole 'I-will-murder-you-right-here-right-now' look. Ronan, honestly, looked absolutely terrifying, okay? Tell him to calm down some time. He shooed the guy off and said 'Put it here, Sargent,' and he—" Blue curled her right hand into a fist and reached for Gansey's wrist, letting his knuckles bump hers for a quick second, " _'Badass.'_ " She let him go and smiled.

"So..." Gansey flexed his fingers and rubbed his lower lip. "You clocked a guy in a store, and now you and Ronan are friends?"

"Yep."

"Key to Ronan's heart," Adam said.

Blue eyed him curiously.

Adam raised an eyebrow.

Gansey didn't seem to notice.

People filed into the benches. A lanky young man with auburn hair stepped up to the podium with a shy smile on his face. He—who must have been the Dorian-Linn—gave a welcoming speech that Blue tuned out completely, then he yielded the podium to the auctioneer. The first piece up on the display table was a stack of leather-bound journals, diaries of the earlier Dorian-Linns. Gansey put in a hefty price immediately. Blue leaned back to look at Adam behind Gansey's back. _"Nerd,"_ she mouthed very aggressively, eyebrows knitted for emphasis. Adam nodded, a wry smile gracing his freckled face. Gansey let out a small, relieved sigh when the auctioneer announced him the best bidder and the journals were moved off the dais. Next up was a ratty old harmonica. Adam made a face.

After five items, the guests were given a brief break for water and a stretch. Blue told Gansey she would wait outside with Ronan for the remainder of the auction, Adam said he'd stay. Gansey agreed without objection. Blue stepped out of the mansion and slid into the front seat of Ronan's BMW, where Ronan was blasting his ear-bleedingly awful music.

"Is Noah back?" she asked.

Ronan nodded. "Vase is in the trunk, Noah's over there, talking with someone."

"Noah's talking with someone?" Blue frowned at how wrongly that came out. She peeked around Ronan to look out the driver's side window. True to Ronan's word, Noah stood leaning against the stone wall of the manor, chattering away with a slender Asian man. Blue hummed. "Silver sleeve cuffs, no break pants, he's wealthy for sure." Ronan turned to stare at her. "He looks like trouble, though."

Ronan shifted in his seat. "You can tell?"

Blue bobbed her head. "More or less." She settled back against her seat. "Well, at least Noah's making friends."

* * *

_***Dorian-Linn mansion, Saturday, 11:06 A.M.*** _

Noah slid off the roof of Ronan's car. "Off I go!" he announced.

Ronan grunted in response.

"Wait," Noah pushed his face up to Ronan's window. "Ronan, can you come with me?"

"What, why?" Ronan's forehead creased.

Noah tilted his head. _"'Remember to case the truck!'_  Gansey had said. _'_ _And make sure the vase is in the truck before you steal it!'_ He kept reminding me. Well, guess what, Sparky? There's a guard behind the truck and you need to knock him out because I'm not good at that. And then, like, hide him so it looks like _he_ stole the vase and ran off with it, not me."

Ronan glared at Noah for a whole ten seconds before opening the car door. "Don't call me Sparky."

" _Sparky_."

"Shut the fuck up."

Noah led Ronan around the back of the mansion to where Greenmantle's armored truck was parked. "Do it quietly," Noah said and huddled down next to a bush. Ronan kept walking. Noah heard a few grunts, some punches landing, and a very soft _crack_. Then he heard Ronan say, "All clear." Noah slipped on his gloves and rounded the corner. Ronan was walking off with the guard over his shoulder. "See you back at the car," Noah called and turned his attention to the lock on the back of the truck. With some twists and turns and a little lock picking, Noah snatched the vase and it's wooden container no problem. He shut the truck's doors and made his way back to Ronan's car, where the owner sat listening to his speakers blare their tunes. "You're fast," Noah commented. "Where'd you put him?"

"You really wanna know?"

"No, nevermind." Noah stuffed the wooden box into the trunk, then cracked it open just to get a look at the vase. It was matte black with grisly details. Noah wrinkled his nose and closed the crate. "What is Gansey going to do with that thing?" He asked Ronan. "Do you think he'll want to keep it? Do _you_ want to keep it? You're Irish."

Ronan scoffed. "Noah, as a who-knows-what generation Irish-in-America, I know exactly two things about Irish history."

"And what's that?"

Ronan ticked them off his index finger. "Jack." He ticked off his middle finger. "And shit."

Noah giggled. "I'm gonna...go for a walk or something." Noah didn't get past the bend of the mansion before someone came around the corner and ran headfirst into him. "Oops! Sorry." Noah ruffled his hair bashfully, then froze when he felt a sneaky, experienced hand slip his lock pick out of his pocket. "Hey!" Noah caught the person by the arm before he had a chance to walk away. "I'd like that back." Noah studied the young man before him. Bright and slanted eyes, bleach-streaked black hair, an angular face, a labret ring, some ear piercings, and scattered beauty spots across his face and neck. He was wearing a black suit and shiny dress shoes with his white shirt collar wide open. _"Die young"_ gaped at Noah from the man's chest. They were about the same height.

Noah got the sinking suspicion that this man was analyzing him with those sharp brown eyes. Noah held out his hand. The man raised a slender eyebrow and smirked, dropping Noah's lock pick into his waiting hand.

"And I'd like my watch back if you will." The man held his hand out in turn, and Noah dejectedly returned the leather-strapped watch. The man sized Noah up. "You're very good." He smiled and held out his hand. "Jiang."

Noah shook it tentatively. "Noah. You're not too bad yourself."

Jiang met Noah's gaze, eyes wide. "Noah?" He opened and closed his mouth. "Not  _the_ Noah?"

Noah cocked his head, a semi-smug look on his face, and shrugged. "I have a rep?"

Jiang rolled his eyes. "You are the Michael Phelps of thievery, Noah. Anyone would know you." Jiang ran a hand through his dark hair. "And yet no one has seen your face before." He studied Noah's face as if to commit it to memory. Noah felt Jiang's look fix upon the purple-red mark on his cheek—a web of broken capillaries. Jiang suddenly looked like he had a million questions, but was polite enough to keep them all to himself. Noah wanted to tell him it wasn't an injury he obtained from a heist, but from his past, but Noah knew better than to share that with anyone, much less a stranger. "I'm not quite chatty," Jiang said. "But talk with me." He leaned against the rough stone wall of the mansion.

Noah gave a tiny smile. "Why talk to me then?"

"Well, it's not every day I get to meet Noah. I was at the Uffizi when you stole Medusa, you know."

"Were you really?" Noah decided to humor Jiang. "So why are you here today?"

Jiang jerked his thumb at the front door. "I have some friends who are here for the auction. It was too stuffy and fancy inside for my liking. What about you? Someone like you can't've left this place empty-handed."

"Even if I did steal something today, I can't just tell you."

"Honor among thieves," Jiang suggested, then mimed pulling a zipper across his lips. "What's said here stays here."

Noah looked around to make sure no one was around. "I stole a vase. An ugly, ugly vase."

"The Dorian-Linn vase, I suppose. What for?"

Noah shrugged. "Out of spite."

"Oh." Jiang fiddled with his silver cuff links. "What are you going to do with it?"

Noah pondered for a second. "We didn't plan on keeping it."

"'We'?"

"Oh yes. I don't work alone anymore." Noah glanced at the BMW, where Ronan sat, drumming beats on the dashboard. "I guess we'll just find someone who wants it and give it to them. Early Christmas gift."

"My friend would pay good money for that vase," Jiang said.

Noah perked up. "Really?" Then he thought about Gansey, who never did things for profit and how he would react if Noah sold the vase to Jiang right now. Noah didn't like the idea of Gansey being disappointed at him. He turned to Jiang. "I mean, if you want it, take it. We won't mind."

Jiang looked ecstatic.

"I just need to know you're not going to turn around and give it to Colin Greenmantle."

Jiang snorted. "No way in hell. I hate him."

"Cool." Noah grinned and hauled the crate out of Ronan's trunk.

"What are you doing?" Ronan stuck his head out the window. Blue's head popped out the passenger side.

"Giving away the ugly vase," Noah responded. "That's what Gansey said to do, right?"

Blue nodded and retreated into the car. Noah set that crate into Jiang's arms. "Have fun with that. I feel like death haunts me just being around that thing."

Jiang grinned too. "I'll treasure this forever."

"Honor among thieves," Noah reminded him.

"Of course," Jiang replied. "If I'm lucky, I'll have the honor of meeting you again."

Noah waved as Jiang hurried away with the crate and ducked into the car just before his legs gave out. He heaved a great sigh and rested his chin on Blue's seat. "I haven't spoken that much to anyone since...gods, I don't even know. And apparently I'm famous in the thieving world! Did I do okay? Did I say _the right things?_ "

Blue just patted his shoulder reassuringly.

* * *

_***Monmouth, Sunday, 3:20 P.M.*** _

 Who would've thought Declan Lynch would drop by and visit? Not Blue. Or Gansey or Adam or Noah or Ronan. But there was Declan Lynch in the doorway of Monmouth, looking pristine and crisp and like a Ronan with hair.

"Hello, Declan." Gansey stepped aside to let Declan in.

"Someone messed with Colin Greenmantle," Declan said sternly, not to anyone in general, but it was clear what he meant.

Blue regarded Declan's tense shoulders despite how hard he tried to keep them relaxed.

"Oh, fuck off," Ronan snapped from the couch. Declan's mouth twitched. "Where's Ashley? Running from your ugly ass?"

Declan's eyes narrowed, his lips pinched, his nostrils flared ever so slightly. He was irked, very mad. "It didn't work. I'm...seeing someone else now."

Ronan sneered. Noah and Adam sat rigidly and awkwardly in the living room, silent. Blue massaged her neck. Even Ronan's jawline wouldn't be sharp enough to cut the tension in the room. Gansey tilted his head and met Declan's hard eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Declan broke the stare and gave each person in the room a steely glare. "Don't go fooling with powers you don't understand. Colin Greenmantle is dangerous." He turned on his heel and left.

"Pleasant," Blue commented when Gansey closed the door. Her phone dinged. She brought it out of her pocket. Helen had sent her a text. _I like your cousin,_ it said.

"Who is it?" Gansey asked.

"Helen," Blue replied, smiling a little.


	5. The First Filler Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corresponding Leverage episode: none

_***Kavinsky's, Saturday, 8:12 P.M.*** _

Monmouth was all quaint and peaceful, where inhabitants stayed in their respective rooms and knocked on others' doors and locked bathroom when in use. Kavinsky's was not. In the morning, Kavinsky could untangle himself from Prokopenko and smother the boy in a blanket burrito, then head to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a piss while Skov blew Swan in the shower. In the evening, Jiang could saunter right into Kavinsky's room to borrow a snapback while Kavinsky banged Prokopenko up against the wall. Privacy didn't home with the dream pack, and none of the inhabitants needed it.

Jiang picked at his day-old bruschetta, kicking his legs up on the table. Skov sat in Swan's lap as they flicked through TV channels. Prokopenko was unbelievably vocal at the moment and Jiang was convinced he'd have nightmares about it. "Tone it down, Proko!" he yelled.

"Fuck off!" Kavinsky bellowed from his room.

Jiang sneered and gobbled up his soggy bread. His phone buzzed in his pocket, reminding him of his 8:30 P.M. weekend defense lessons. To be honest, they weren't really official lessons. Jiang had a calc tutor during his high school career who not only helped him get a hang of calc but also gave him a helping hand while Jiang was in law school (which he later dropped out of, but that's beside the point). Said tutor also offered to teach Jiang a little self-defense. Jiang, who had nothing better to do besides get high and break into secure facilities with his friends, said yes.

Jiang stood up from his chair and went to Kavinsky's room, where Kavinsky whispered obscenities into Prokopenko's ear and the bed squeaked like crazy. Jiang snatched a leather jacket off its hanger and left. "I'm going out," he told Swan, who was tracing circles on Skov's pale back with his own midnight fingers. Swan grunted affirmatively and Jiang shut the front door behind him. He stuffed his hands into Kavinsky's jacket pockets and strolled his way to the gym. He bit his lips against the evening cold and shivered in relief when he entered the fluorescent-lit gym. Jiang walked past ellipticals and treadmills and weights to a three-walled room with mirrors, some mats, punching bags, and a cabinet. Declan Lynch waited in the middle of the room in a white t-shirt and grey sweats.

Declan nodded at Jiang, who nodded in return.

Jiang took off his shoes, socks, and jacket and discarded them in a corner.

"How was your week?" Declan asked.

Jiang shrugged. His criminal life was unbeknownst to Declan. "Fine. Same old. Got wasted a couple times."

"Self-defense lessons won't do you any good if you can't even stand." Declan beckoned. Jiang positioned himself in front of a punching bag. He and Declan recapped last week's lesson, then Declan walked him through a short series of new moves—some snap kicks, side kicks, kneeing, and where best to—letting Jiang practice on him as he hunched over a kick shield.

As it neared nine o'clock, Declan released Jiang for a drink of water and a towel. When Jiang returned, Declan had cleared away the shields and left only a large, thick mat in the center of the room. Jiang stood facing Declan on the mat. "I'm going show you something. Not the most useful," Declan began saying, "but one of the favorites that my father taught me." Declan often mentioned his father during these late lessons. His father taught him this, his father taught him that. There was always mild reverence in Declan's tone, but something else as well, some semblance of resentment. Declan put one foot before the other, shoulders' width apart, and placed Jiang's hands on his shoulders. Declan's skin was warm and slick with sweat. Then Declan hooked his hands onto Jiang's upper arms, pressing his elbows to the insides of Jiang's, leaning forward. Jiang did his best to mirror Declan's posture.

"We do this when grappling," Declan explained. Jiang nodded along. Declan looked at him with his icy sharp eyes, a mere two inches away. "Grappling," he repeated. "Go."

"Oh." Jiang steadied his hands on Declan's shoulders and pushed. And pulled. And pushed and in one swift motion Declan hooked his right arm around Jiang's neck and threw Jianghard into the mat, pressing his back against Jiang's chest. Jiang's back erupted in tingling pain as it hit the mat. Declan didn't even have to pin him in an uncomfortable position for him to be immobile, the sheer weight of Declan on his chest was enough to make it hard to move _and_ to breathe. Jiang flapped his left hand weakly on the mat, signaling for Declan to get off. 

Declan stood up and pulled Jiang to his feet. 

Jiang exhaled sharply. His right arm had pressed between himself and Declan and had gone numb, he shook it until pins and needles set in. "Do that again," Jiang said. "Slowly, please." Jiang put his hands back onto Declan's shoulders, Declan replaced his on Jiang's arms.

"So I go when my dominant hand is forward," Declan pushed against Jiang with his right arm. "For me, that's my right. For you, that's your left. Now hook." Declan slid his right arm around Jiang's neck and made to kneel down. "Momentum will bring you down with me." As soon as Jiang lay back on the mat, Declan shoved his weight into Jiang's chest, this time, his shoulder dug in and it hurt.

"Ow," Jiang protested. "Ow, ow."

Declan let Jiang go. "Now you try," Declan ordered. Jiang got to his feet, they both set their hands, and Jiang grappled and pulled and gave Declan's neck an experimental push. Declan didn't even budge. "Do it like you mean it," Declan said severely. Jiang tried again and practically rammed his arm into Declan's neck. Declan had gone lax and allowed Jiang to bring him to the ground. Jiang thrust his body at Declan's torso, blood pounding, he felt a heartbeat and he wasn't sure if it was his own or Declan's. "Good." Declan only had to buck gently to get Jiang off. "Maybe try harder next time."

"Right." Jiang wiped his face with his towel and checked the clock. Nine fifteen. "See you tomorrow." He gathered his jacket and socks and shoes.

"Tomorrow," Declan confirmed.

Then Jiang strolled his way back home.

* * *

_***Monmouth, Saturday, 9:30 P.M.*** _

Noah's room was very clean and organized. He had a bookshelf that held more sketchbooks and scrap paper and wooden sculptures than books, it also held a snow globe and a picture frame placed face-down. His desk was stacked with papers and drawings as well, along with a few potted succulents. The clear marble with the bee in it rested next to a lamp. Pastel and glittery pennant banners were strung above his bed. Noah himself was the centerpiece. He lay tummy-down on the bed, Blue was sprawled next to him, and Ronan sat in Noah's swivel chair.

"Okay, you know what?" Noah was telling Blue. "Ronan acts all rough and tough but you see that?" Noah pointed at the little black lump in Ronan's hands as Ronan cradled it tenderly. "That's a baby bird. He saved a baby bird outside Adam's place. Look at him babying the child." Noah smiled a bit. "He's got his stupid tattoos and gets drunk and drag races, but he loves tiny animals. Little mice and tiny birds. Isn't that right, Ronan?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"You know what his name means?" Noah asked Blue. Blue shook her head. "It means little seal. Baby seal. Like, a selkie child. That's lame."

Ronan huffed. Blue giggled.

"Can I see the bird?" Blue held out her hands. Ronan held out his, but only to see if his wee raven would voluntarily go to Blue. The bird did, and Blue held it close to her lips. The raven huddled in Blue's cupped hands. "Does she have a name?"

"Chainsaw," Ronan answered.

"Oh, for god's sake." Noah slammed his face into the mattress.

Someone knocked on the door. Adam poked his head in. "Hey, De—what are you all doing in here?" Noah and Ronan shrugged. Blue held Chainsaw out for Adam to see. Adam's hand hovered over the little bird, who chirped and nuzzled Adam's long fingers. He smiled softly, stepped into the room, and leaned against the door. "Declan's here." Everyone turned to look at Adam. "He came in ten minutes ago and started talking to Gansey. Something about Greenmantle and how he's starting an investigation against the thieves who stole his property."

"Why?" Ronan asked. "I mean, why is he here?"

Adam shrugged and went to sit on the desk behind Ronan. "I think Declan came for help."

Ronan's whole face seemed to twitch. "Declan? Asking _us_ of all people for help?"

Adam shrugged again. He felt just as puzzled as everyone in the room looked it. "Can I hold her?" Blue passed it to Ronan passed it to Adam's cupped hands. Adam's fingers fumbled with Ronan's as the bird was coaxed onto his palms. It was a tiny ball of black fluffiness with a beak and too-big black eyes. Her talons kicked and scrabbled against Adam's calloused knuckles. "Did you name her since you picked her up?"

"Chainsaw."

"Oh, boy," Adam sighed.

* * *

_***300 Fox Way, Saturday, 9: 33 P.M.*** _

Helen appreciated the women of Fox Way, she really did. They were nice, enthusiastic, hospitable, other synonymous adjectives... There were no men in the household, but Helen was fine with that and never asked why.

Blue was right. Maura had a whole plethora of weird drinks and concoctions and not all of them tasted good. One woman, Jimi, had given Helen an aroma bath and burned herbs in Helen's current bedroom. Jimi was a plump woman whose congenial personality was as ample as her bosom. Helen liked her because she showed Helen motherly kindness Mrs. Gansey had never displayed. The little girls in the house invited Helen to make soap and cakes with them, to which Helen complied happily, having never made soap by hand nor baked a cake. Helen occasionally joined Maura's friend, Calla, in her aerial yoga sessions that proved a lot more difficult than it looked, and Maura's other friend, Persephone, in her eccentric knitting habits. Then there was Orla Sargent, a jack-in-the-box of explosive surprises and a hodgepodge of questionable choices.

Orla Sargent was peculiar, she was stunning, she was a lot to handle. Helen had spent a week with the Fox Way ladies and the most time out of all that with Orla. In fact, Orla was her roommate. Orla liked movies like _Kill Your Darlings_  and _The Dreamers_ , she liked Elvis Presley and Madonna and ABBA, she wore 70s fashion complete with studded clogs and flaring bell bottoms. Orla Sargent also sported generous amounts of orange. Helen felt overwhelmed around Orla, and she wasn't convinced it was a bad thing.

At the moment, Helen reclined on a pile of pillows on Orla's bed, picking at the bandage on her cheek. Orla thumbed through a stack of DVDs on the floor.

"What do you wanna watch?" Orla asked.

Helen shrugged. "Anything goes."

"Seriously?" Orla shuffled to the bedside and held out her stack. "Here, pick one."

Helen huffed good-humoredly and pointed at a DVD.

Orla picked it out. " _Dead Poets Society_ , good choice." Orla slipped the disc into her laptop. "Move." She bumped Helen's arm and Helen scooted over to make space for Orla.

One more thing Helen forgot to mention about Orla: Once Orla considered you a friend, personal space didn't exist.

Orla snuggled right up against Helen's side, shoulder bumping shoulder, and set her laptop between their laps. The movie began. "You want popcorn? A drink?"

* * *

_***Kavinsky's, Saturday, 9:45 P.M.*** _

Jiang swept a heap of dirty clothes off an armchair and stretched out on it, admiring the Vase of Dorian-Linn across the living room. Kavinsky and Prokopenko were somehow still going at it. On the couch next to him, Skov was sound asleep in Swan's arms, snoring softly.

Swan played with Skov's turquoise hair and checked out the vase as well. "How'd you get that?" he asked in faintly accented English.

"It was gifted to me at the auction," Jiang replied.

"Bullshit," Swan said, but didn't question Jiang further.

 _The vase really was hideous,_ Jiang thought. Not in a sense of craft, the craftsmanship was amazing, but the images were absolutely grotesque. It was a souvenir from Jiang's encounter with Noah, though, and he wasn't about to give it up anytime soon. He rubbed his chest. "I'm going to bed," Jiang said. He was gonna wake up sore.

* * *

_***Monmouth, Saturday, 10:30 P.M.*** _

"I sent Declan off," Gansey told his friends. "He's coming back tomorrow, though."

"Why?" Noah asked. "Declan never comes to us for...help, was it?"

"Help," Gansey said. "Well, he came saying we need his help, but really he also needs our help."

"With what?" Blue asked. She barely knew Declan, but she knew enough to understand he had a more-than-rocky relationship with Ronan.

Gansey shrugged. "He wants Greenmantle gone."

They were all silent until Adam piped up. "Okay, I'll bite. How gone is gone?"

"Stripped but alive," Gansey replied.

* * *

_***300 Fox Way, Saturday, 11:45 P.M.*** _

Helen Gansey had to console a sobbing Orla at the end of the movie.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @dawnisgone


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